Aftermath
by Lexen
Summary: The war left behind many ragged edges. It's time for Molly and Arthur to deal with theirs.


**Disclaimer****: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. J.K. Rowling created it all, and no money is being made from this work of fan fiction.**

**AN****: I have no beta, and all mistakes are mine. This story was written as a gift for Cheeky Slytherin Lass and is an entry for the "Legendary Gods and Goddesses" competition on HPFC for the "Demeter" category and the "Love Again" challenge. This story is not graphic but does include coarse language, adult themes, possible triggers, and implied rough lemons. Molly and Arthur may be considered a little OOC here, but I think that this is in line with what could happen with them after the war. By the way, Molly and Arthur are alone when this takes place. **

"You think I'm a murderer, don't you?" Molly screamed, her wand nearly in Arthur's face.

"Quit putting words into my mouth! I never said that!" Arthur screamed back, his wand also perilously close to his wife.

Molly's face was red from screaming, but there were tears streaking her face. Her flaming red hair was dull and limp, and it was clear that she had lost weight. Arthur looked no better, his clothes rumpled, his own face red, and his red hair sticking up on all sides. A simple disagreement about what to have for dinner had escalated into a row the likes of which they couldn't remember. It had been two months since they'd lost Fred, and the grief they had shoved aside had continued to build into resentment and boiled over into rage.

"But that's what you meant! I can see it in your eyes when you look at me! That's why you won't even touch me anymore." The hand holding her wand shook, and the tears continued to drip silently down her face.

Arthur threw up his hands. "How can I touch you when you flinch away from me? Damn it all, Molly! All I want right now is to touch you!"

She was nearly nose to nose with him, her rage like a flame threatening to devour them both.

"Prove it!" she screamed. Something snapped in Arthur then, the grief of every moment since Fred's loss and the war itself welling up inside him until it boiled over. He was not a violent man, certainly never toward his family. However, he was not a weak man either, as Lucius Malfoy had found out the hard way. Very rarely, that strength found a different direction.

Taking Molly by surprise, he snatched both their wands and threw them aside to land on the kitchen counter. Arthur grabbed his wife around the waist and lifted her, sending her sprawling onto her back on the kitchen table and then climbed up himself, pinning her hands against the scarred wood of the table as he used his weight to hold her still. She fought him hard, trying to get enough leverage to shove him off, but he gave her no room to move.

"Happy now?" he hissed as he ground himself against her. The rage on her face was transmuting into something only slightly less dangerous, and his body responded to her arousal in kind.

She smirked at him, a look that sat oddly on her face. But Arthur understood. It was the same look he had seen when she stood over Bellatrix's lifeless body. He loved that look. He loved her when she was not sweet and mild-mannered and motherly.

"Let's get something clear. You killed…for me…for our family." He paused, smirking back at her. "That turns me on." His voice was softer now, but it had lost none of its earlier violence.

"Does it? I don't think I'm convinced yet." Molly could be so slytherin when she wanted to be. She repeated what she'd said earlier. "Prove it."

His blue eyes glittered. "Not till you say it. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck me!"

And he did.

Much later, they lay quiet and tired. They'd finally dragged themselves to their bed, leaving behind a trail of destroyed clothing and an oddly dented table. Arthur sat against the pillows, holding Molly in his arms as he stroked her hair. She was bruised all over her body, and he had scratches buried deep into his skin. Neither of them minded.

"I'm never letting you go, Molly," he whispered in her ear. "You're mine, and don't you ever forget that! Nothing you could ever do will change that, and if you fall, I'm following you all the way down!"

She caught his mouth in her own, biting his lip till it bled. He hungrily returned the kiss.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way."

They both smiled.

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